Everybody Wants Jack
by Amber Everfor
Summary: Jack satisfies the needs of the farmer and his wife and nurses his mother, while his own chance for fulfillment thrusts upward.


The light from a red sky awoke him the next morning. He squinted as he rolled out of his bed. He looked in his mother's room and sighed at the emptiness then went out the front door to relieve his morning bladder, watching the road for any sign of Erma. Nothing.

The dew penetrated his thin-soled boots as he trod over the fields to the Cooper Farm. Judging by the looks of the sky, he calculated rain by noon, which meant his feet would be wet all day.

"Jack, I have breakfast for you," said Farmer Charlie's wife from the kitchen door. "Hope you're hungry."

Charlie had gotten his bride from an adjoining village, one where all the girls hadn't already decided he'd be more interested in their brothers than most of them. Peg was chubby, with a sweet smile and hair the color of the aged walnut kitchen table. Jack had remarked on that the first time she'd lain across it and lifted her skirt for him. Breakfast of ham and eggs usually included a side dish of Peg's cream, if Charlie wasn't there.

Jack ducked his head to pass under the door frame, noting Charlie wasn't seated at the table, wolfing down his victuals. Peg gave him a rosy-cheeked smile as she placed a dish before him. She sat across from him and leaned forward while he dug in, her round breasts dropping on the table and peeking out of her square neckline. They reminded him of the spicy eggs he devoured, the protuberant yolks much like her over-sized nipples."You have some on your chin there," she said in a soft voice she thought was seductive. She playfully slid her milk-coated tongue all around her mouth, as if indicating where the sticky ort was on Jack's face. "I hope you liked it."

"Yes, thank you. It was filling," he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and rising from his chair as Peg took his empty plate to the sink.

"He's not here." Peg turned back to him with her hair released form its mousy nape bun. The dark brown frizz framed her face like a storm cloud. Her face formed her sweet smile as she lifted her wide derriere onto the table and opened her legs, the hair protecting her dignity also as dark as the table and dewy as the field of lavender through which Jack had just come.

"I like watching you eat," she said, pulling him by a suspender closer to her. "You're so handsome."

She was too nice to do this. Jack understood how Charlie could disappoint her, but he wasn't much more excited about eating the sweet woman. She deserved better.

"Miss Peg..." he began, averting his eyes somewhere between the sunny side-up breasts and her moist field.

"Call me Pearleen." She stretched out across the square table, flicking her tongue about again, as if suggesting a route for Jack to follow.

Her desperation was painful to behold. _Think of it as an apple_, Jack told himself as he dropped to his knees. At his height, that put his shoulders in line with her open legs so he craned his neck into an uncomfortable, downward position.

_An apple cut in two and I'm going for the core_. He twisted his bent head and touched the tip of his tongue to her. She hummed. He lay the flat of the tongue on her core and licked up once or twice. Her legs twitched, the thick thigh joggling his head. He turned it in the other direction, continuing his tonguing.

Peg moaned. She was a sweet woman. He grazed her with his teeth and she used her fingers to pull back her labium, begging him to enter.

_An apple_, he thought again. _You like apples_. Peg's pleasurable sounds increased as he used his own finger to figuratively flick seeds from the apple core.

"Ahhh," she sighed, lifting her head. "More, more, Jack."

He lifted her legs onto his shoulders, raising her hips, not to delve deeper, but to relieve the strain on his neck. But Peg tittered. "You can't get enough, can you, sweet boy?"

He buried his head between her legs and mumbled into her curling public hair. She bucked her bottom on the dark walnut table, dripping her vaginal sweat down his indifferent throat.

"Jack, Jack!" Her voice rose dangerously loud for such clandestine activity. Jack tried to hurry what he was doing so she could finish before they were caught.

Her last sound, a protracted, staccato groan, accompanied by a fresh spurt of juices, signaled to Jack he was finally done.

Barks from the yard beyond the screen door announced the imminent arrival of Farmer Charlie. Jack extracted his head from Peg's womanhood and dropped her legs with haste. He wiped his mouth and headed for the door.

She deserved better. He went back and helped her to her feet and pulled her dress back into position. He kissed her cheek. "Thanks for breakfast, Miss Peg."

Jumping from the stoop and over three stairs to the ground, Jack looked out toward the road Charlie had just come in on for any sign of Erma. "You didn't see my Ma, did you?'

Charlie stood up from petting his aging sheepdog. His eyes automatically scanned Jack's long, toned frame. "No. Why? Where's she been?"

Jack scratched the back of his lowered head. "Don't know if she's been anywhere. I just didn't see her before I left this morning."

"Oh," Charlie answered. Jack appreciated that he didn't ask more. They both knew where Erma had gone.

"I'll go to the flax field," Jack said, sidling next to Charlie to thank him for his discretion. "I want to weed before the flowers bloom."

Charlie nodded, touching Jack's flank as he walked past. "I'll be out there later," he promised. Jack gave him a trace of a smile and didn't roll his eyes until he was headed to the waist-high green field of delicate, almost feathery looking crops.

The sky teased more rain, with grey-bordered clouds approaching each other before veering off, like timid would-be lovers. A breeze flirted with him, alternately tossing his curls forward to cover his dark sapphire eyes then blowing them toward the back of his head. His badly-soled shoes made squishing sounds as he trod the spongy ground.

The road to town lay beyond the flax field and he could watch it for signs of his mother while he worked. He had sheafs of golden-white wild wheat laying around him when Charlie snuck up behind him, biting his back while inching a hand to Jack's groin.

"You've been working hard," Charlie said huskily, resting his chin under Jack's shoulder blade. "You deserve a reward."

Jack rolled his eyes out of his employer's view. "Mr. Charlie..."

The farmer used the screen of plants to hide his persistent rubbing of Jack's front and his grinding against Jack's back. The younger man responded in spite of himself, rocking his lower body to take full advantage of Charlie's offering.

He raised his head to the sky. Two heavy clouds seemed to grow bolder, dancing around each other, even rubbing against each other, as if mimicking the determined farmer. His labored breaths nearly caused Jack to miss the rattle of wagon wheels and a woman's cackle. It passed close enough that he could see his mother sitting very close to the grizzled driver.

"I need to go home, Mr. Charlie. I'll be back later," Jack promised, leaving the skinny farmer with both his arms and cock extended.

Jack raced to his hovel so he was there when the driver pushed his mother out and drove away as Jack shouted after him. "You stay away from her, you fuckin' pig."

He stooped to help his mother, crawling to the door and muttering. "She sang to me, Jack," Erma whimpered. He winced at his mother's breath, rank with both beer and semen. It explained how she'd been able to get herself in that condition with only a shilling.

"She sang to me every morning, my pretty harp."

"I know, Ma. You've told me," Jack said. He lifted his mother into his arms to carry into the house, just as the two black clouds overhead finally copulated and thundered in climax, rain following like their ejaculate.

"After she woke me, I'd go see my goose and get one of her golden eggs and take it to Papa," Erma continued weakly, unable to keep her eyes open.

"I know, Ma," Jack sighed, taking her to her bed. He was used to the pitiable stories she told when she was drunk. "You rest and I'll get you some tea."

The storm outside would save him from going back to the farm and he could care for his mother properly. He steeped the tea leaves Pg had given him and since there was no milk, added a bit of honey she'd also gifted him.

"Thank you, Jack," Erma sniffled when he handed her the china cup from her youth. "I used to drink my tea while the harp played for me. I should have always been that happy, but he took my treasures."

"I know, Ma," Jack said, with no idea of what she was talking about.

"He wanted you too but I told him no. I said I could live without the other things, but not without my little boy." She pushed her head far back to look up into Jack's face. "But you're not so little anymore, are you?"

"No, Ma."

"Not as tall as he was, but just as handsome."

"Who, Ma?" She'd never said that before.

"Your..." Her shaky hand titled the cup, spilling tea onto her legs. She looked up at him with watery, mossy eyes. "You're a good boy, Jack. I didn't say anything mean to you before, did I?" The china rattled, her lips trembling like her hands.

"He helped guide the cup to her malodorous mouth. "No, Ma, you didn't."

She pushed the cup away from her, crying, "No more tea, no eggs, no music, no..." She fell back onto the bed, passed out, her shawl falling open to reveal her bodice unlaced and her small breasts scratched and smeared with dirty prints.

Jack covered her and fixed some lunch for himself. He got the latest book Charlie had loaned him from his father's library. Charlie had joked he didn't read anything deeper than a seed catalog so Jack was welcome to any of the books there. He'd said it with a wink though and Jack had known what that meant.

He pulled off his shirt and lay on the old, over-sized bed Charlie and Peg had given him, to read The Odyssey. He dreamed of great adventure for himself, but wouldn't desert his mother to seek it. Therefore, he read, imagining himself as one of the hardened crew. He twisted his long frame, seeking a better position He'd come to his favorite part, where Odysseus outsmarts the Cyclops but couldn't get comfortable,his mother's words lurking in his brain.

She'd made intimations about his father in the past, most contradicting another—that he was a soldier killed in battle...or the tallest man she'd ever seen...or he'd loved them both but had to leave because he didn't belong here—Jack had never really cared. Why should he? But she'd never before hinted his father might have taken something from her or had wanted him.

Hatred, rather than the customary indifference at his sire, roiled through him, thinking the man responsible for his height was also responsible for his mother's misery.

_No wonder she gets mad at me. I must remind her of him and she thinks I'll hurt her too._

The agonized retching of an empty stomach, followed by heavings of a dust-dry mouth drew his attention to the pitiable woman writhing on the bed on the other side of the room. "Jack," she rasped between convulsions. "Jack!"

"Coming, Ma." He lay down the book of adventure...of hubris and determination...of blind faith in the face of desertion...to tend to hung-over Erma.

With the ancient stories, his mother's fabrications and physical needs consuming him, he was oblivious to the orgy of the storm outside. The rain masturbated the peddler's beans and a plant shot up from the ground. Erect and throbbing in growth, it thrust against the sky.


End file.
